


What They Don't Teach in Med School

by DahYelTal



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Ace Erasure, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual James T. Kirk, Canon Compliant, Demisexual Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Post-Star Trek Beyond, Unreliable Narrator (Bones)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:55:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24918712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DahYelTal/pseuds/DahYelTal
Summary: Leonard is tired of Jim's biannual prank of asking him out and brushes him off like all the other times before. Only, apparently, it wasn't like all the times before because now their friends are pissed at him and Jim is avoiding him. After a lesson from a very scary Gaila and some research, he comes to the conclusion that he's not as good of a friend--or a doctor--as he thought.A lesson on unlearning prejudices.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Comments: 7
Kudos: 84





	What They Don't Teach in Med School

**Author's Note:**

> Hi folks, this is my first Trek fic and my first fic in over a decade, hope y'all enjoy it!
> 
> Special thanks to TokiMudkip, PrairieDawn, and ofnyota for their wonderful beta work. <3

Dr. Leonard H. McCoy had seen a lot in his 30-some odd years. He was able to read people decently well--a necessity, considering his profession--but even after spending several years with a certain James T. Kirk, his best friend still managed to surprise him. Usually it was due to a stunning new level of dumbassery, or dumb luck, or a combination of the two. But this time, he wasn’t sure. 

Len got in line for the individual replicators but grew frustrated by both the wait and the not-so-subtle glares from the bridge crew. He made a right mess of things somehow, but he was unsure of what he did. Or how they knew, for that matter. He was a private man and his friend respected that, why was it anyone else’s business anyway? Although, he supposed, maybe it was a good thing  _ someone _ knew since he clearly needed help righting whatever he wronged.

With a sigh, Leonard bit the bullet. He got his mass-synthesized meal, walked his tray of supposedly edible glop over to his favorite comms officer, and sat down. Uhura was a reasonable woman, he figured, and she had a knack for interpersonal communication that his med school training--even in this century--sorely lacked. If anyone was going to put him in his place while also helping him figure out what he did, it was her.

“Nyo--”

Len didn’t get out more than a syllable before she looked right through him, stood up, tossed her sleek pony over her shoulder, and picked up her tray to march it to the recycler.  _ The hell did I do this time? _ He berated himself quite colorfully for a few more seconds as he picked through his skull to find what the hell had happened in the past 12 hours, but couldn’t think of anything out of the ordinary.

Sure, he called Jim out on his attempted prank of asking him out for the millionth time, but that couldn’t be it. The two of them had been through this plenty of times before, and Len always said no. It wasn’t like this time was any different. Jim tried buttering him up with bourbon and a nice meal that wasn’t replicated, went over how good their working and personal relationship was and how great it would be to combine them, and then leaned in for a kiss that Leonard had refused.

“Yer lookin’ down, aye doc,” Scotty said as he set his tray down, startling Leonard. “Somethin’ happen with Jimmy? Th’ crew’s been talkin’, says he’s been moody since yer date.”

Leonard smacked both palms down on the table. “It wasn’t a date!”

He heard the sound of a tray being tossed roughly into the recycler and saw a blur of gold rush out of the room.

“Does he ken? Ah dinnae think he does. Ye better fix it.”

“Yeah... right… Thanks, Scotty,” Len muttered quietly as he dumped his own tray and followed Jim, only to be intercepted by the curly haired Orion, Gaila, that Jim and Scotty both enjoyed hanging out with. Didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why Jim liked her, and why they were friends, but that was none of his business.

“I’m tired of you hurting my friend, so you’re coming with me, Dr. McCoy,” Gaila said calmly as she maneuvered him through the halls to the turbolift, punching in the floor for medical. Len was about to ask why she chose to go to his home turf, but wisely shut his mouth with a click of teeth when her blue eyes pinned him to the ‘lift wall. “Good. At least you’ve got some sense in you.”

When they arrived at his office, Gaila shoved Leonard into his seat and crossed her arms, staring down at him. “Why do you insist on rejecting Jim and making cruel jokes in the process? I  _ know _ you return his affections.”

Len’s eyes went wide and he stuttered a breath but Gaila put her hand up.

“Open Jim’s medical file.”

“Lieutenant Gaila, I’m not showing you anything in his file. I wouldn’t do that as a doctor and I certainly wouldn’t do that as a friend.”

Gaila scoffed and waved her hands for him to get on with it. “I’m not the one that needs to look at it. Pull it up, look at his sexuality. We all have to fill that out, just look at Jim’s.”

Dr. McCoy, of course, knew what Jim’s record said, but it didn’t say what Jim truly was. Even after his promotion to captain, getting truths out of his medical records felt like pulling teeth the old fashioned way. He knew the kid lied in his official records--mostly for good reason considering his Tarsus experience--but provided Leonard with most of the truths he held tight to his chest. Len was confused about why this one, his sexuality, was a sticky subject. This part in his file was even updated less than a semester into their first year at the Academy.

“I don’t see how any of this matters. So I was a little harsh on him last night. I’m just tired of this running joke of his. I’m tired of it  _ because _ I like him. That’s all,” Leonard said flatly.

“You told him to go to one of his other ‘fuck buddies’ if he wanted to get laid so bad,” Gaila bit out. If her arms could cross any tighter, they would break her. As it was, her tight grip on her biceps surely had to be leaving a mark.

Len let out a groan of frustration and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face in his hands. “So? It’s not like I haven’t said it before. I don’t see what the problem is, Gaila. I don’t do casual, he knows that. I’m tired of this joke of his.” In all the years at the Academy, Leonard never once saw Jim maintain any sort of relationship. In fact, Gaila was probably the only person he ever returned to, and it wasn’t monogamous.

“Human men are such, such…” Gaila threw her hands up and said something that the universal translator didn’t quite catch, but the gestures alone were enough to tell Len exactly what she wanted to communicate. “Jim isn’t joking with you! Jim isn’t after sex either, if you just  _ listened _ to what he was trying to tell you.”

It was Len’s turn to scoff, “Like hell he isn’t. I know you’ve been knockin’ boots since back at the Academy.” He could feel his heart pumping faster and harder, and the added stress showed itself with a thicker Georgian drawl. “Not that I frown on that as long as everyone is safe. That just ain’t my style.”

“Jim is a panromantic, sex-neutral asexual. Exactly like his medical record says.” Gaila’s arms uncrossed and she leaned a hip on the doctor’s desk, planting her palm in the center of Leonard’s desk in order to lean in close. For such a pretty woman, Gaila sure scared the hell out of the doctor. Like getting between a bobcat and her kittens.

“And how would you know what his medical record said?”

“Because I helped him figure out he was asexual and got him to update it.”  _ Well that explains that _ , Len thought as Gaila continued. “You humans, especially doctors, have a lot of odd attachments to sexuality. His Academy doctors kept questioning him about his sexual history and calling him a liar. We had assumed that if his sexuality was correct he’d get less of that, especially from his best friend, but…” Gaila shrugged, pushed herself back to standing up straight, and turned around.

“Jim deserves better, but he wants you, so I won’t interfere,” Gaila said coolly as she left. She nearly made it out the door before she spun around, curls bouncing and a finger waving in the air. “And it was a date. Jim asked you if you wanted to go on a date and you said yes.  _ You _ are the one not being honest.” With that, she marched out the door, leaving Len to stew in his thoughts.

Being a doctor, Len had to interact with a lot of patients and with the help of the nurses, try to figure out the truths, half-truths, and lies that were being told. If he missed something, if he didn’t read between the lines, or if he took a patient at their word, he might miss a diagnosis. But this time, it was starting to dawn on him, he might have made the wrong diagnosis by doing just that. It made him wonder how many other times he’d been wrong to assume the patient wasn’t telling him the truth.

First, though, Len needed to do some research. While humanity had come a long way regarding the treatment of the queer community, Gaila was right. The medical community had an odd attachment to sexuality and often pathologized it if it wasn’t what they were used to. Growing up in Georgia, where fundamentalist ideals still had deep roots, didn’t help, and neither did Ole’ Miss. Killing two birds--calming down and unlearning his prejudices--with one stone, he reopened his PADD and started looking at sources that weren’t medical, but were created by the real experts: the very people who held this identity.

It turned out that Len didn’t know jack shit when it came to asexuality, and... might he also fit one of the subgroups? He wasn’t sure. Maybe Jim would be up for that conversation, but they obviously had more important things to worry about. Taking in a deep breath for confidence, Leonard turned off his PADD, got up from his desk, and stretched, asking the computer where the captain was currently. It took him 15 minutes at a brisk walk to find Jim tinkering away at some broken piece of machinery in the bowels of the Enterprise.

“Jim, we need to talk,” Len started in the calmest voice he could manage, which was tough considering he was a little winded.

Jim sighed, tossed his tool to the floor, and turned around, eyes downcast, absolutely silent.

“I’m sorry.” Len rubbed the back of his neck, putting pressure where he’d been feeling tension all day. “I messed up. I had… a lot of unconscious biases that I was forcin’ on ya and I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that, you were tellin’ me the truth the whole time. I should have believed you because you are my best friend.”

Jim leaned against the wall but didn’t say anything, so Leonard continued. “Gaila rightfully called me out and I did some researchin’ and I gotta say, even as a doctor, with an MD and all o’ that, the reason why I didn’t believe you is ‘cause I didn’t know what you were saying.”

“So why didn’t you just ask?” Jim forced the words out, his dark blond eyebrows fighting between furrowing and shooting off his forehead as he stared at his best friend.

Len flapped his hands like a drowning bird. “I don’t know, ‘m stupid sometimes! And... I think... I might also be... y’know...? I don’t know! I don’t know any of this, they aren’t good at teaching human sexuality in med school, let alone human  _ a _ sexuality.” He paused for a breath, but before Jim could say anything, he quickly added, “Not that that ‘scuzes me from not believing what you were telling me.”

Jim nodded slightly and returned his eyes to the floor. “I used to sleep around a lot, Bones. Before the academy. I don’t... I don’t like being alone, and it’s not like I hated sex, but when I got to the academy, I had you and that was enough.” He looked up for a brief second with his piercing blue eyes that shot right to Leonard’s core. “At least, it  _ was _ enough.”

Leonard panicked and took a step forward, which was not his brightest move. Jim looked like he was about to bolt, so he put his palms up, treating the blond like he would a frightened colt. “Hey, hey Jimmy, let’s keep talkin’ about this. I want to understand just how much I screwed up so I can fix it.”

Sighing, Jim crouched down to pack up his gear without a word, motioning for Len to follow when he finished. The two ended up in the captain’s quarters and took their usual spots across the bar. “You owe me a drink, Bones.”

Len nodded and served up two glasses of Jim’s favorite Saurian brandy, which he’d given him for his half-birthday--the day he chose to celebrate his friend’s birthday without the looming cloud of Daddy Kirk. When both of them had taken their first burning sip, Leonard started talking again. “I owe you a lot more than that, Jimmy.”

“Well, yeah, I fixed you a real nice dinner... But I don’t want to get what I want because you feel obligated.”

Cringing, Len set his glass down none too gently and reached over to grab Jim’s wrist firmly. “Now listen here, I don’t feel obligated to do  _ anything _ with you. I know that’s not how you operate, that’s not how  _ we _ operate. Never has been, never will be. Unless you put on your Captain voice, I know that you won’t make or expect me to do anything I don’t want to.”

Jim barked out a laugh. “Bones, I’ve made you do plenty that you didn’t want to do.”

“Fair ‘nuff, but that’s not what I meant and you know it.” Len took another sip with his left hand and released Jim’s wrist with his right, but Jim caught it. “Jim?”

“Sorry,” Jim breathed out, letting go of his friend’s hand like it would burn him. “So you said that you think you’re ‘you know’?”

Len rolled his eyes at his own immaturity. “Yeah, one of the subcategories of asexual. Demisexual, the one where you don’t get the butterflies unless you are really comfortable with the person. I didn’t know it was a thing and I’m a damn doctor.”

Jim nodded his head like he understood, which maybe he did, and gave one of the most sincere smiles Len had ever seen. “You come up with that description yourself, Bones?”

Blushing, Len nodded and put his glass to his lips again, barely tasting any of the fine liquor. “Didn’t like the medical definitions. My momma always said I’d feel butterflies when I ‘liked’ someone. I’ve only felt butterflies three times.”

“I only feel butterflies when I’m touched in, uh, certain ways, and my body isn’t picky about who it’s touched by,” Jim said with a shrug. “I mean, the rest of me is picky, but there’s this... separation. Sex isn’t something I need, but it’s not something I mind either.” He took a breath, then flushed and looked up at Len with a panicked look. “That’s OK, right?”

“Relax, Jimmy, of course that’s OK. I getcha. I can’t say I fully understand, but I don’t need to understand to support you and… and love you.” His final words dropped to a whisper, and Len, being the confident southern gentleman that his momma raised him to be, looked Jim dead in the eye. “I love you, Jim. I have for a long time, and I hate myself for not thinkin’ you were being truthful all those times.”

Jim ran a hand through his short blond hair until he mussed it up good. Len knew Jim was bad at this part, and the deflection was clear. “How come you didn’t believe me?”

“Well, you  _ did _ have a reputation around campus, and you didn’t come back to the dorm until late, a lot. I just assumed…”

“You’re smart, doc, ask yourself what was going on in the dorm on those nights I got back late or never went back.” Jim gave Len a challenging look and took another sip, clearly still frustrated by Len’s continued disbelief. Not that he blamed Jim.

It took him a minute’s worth of a staring contest before Len put the pieces together. “You didn’t want to bother me when I was studying, or when I had to work odd shifts or double shifts at the hospital... you were staying out of the room so I could focus or rest. Or both.”

“Bingo.”

“But that doesn’t explain the reputation, Jim. I know I shouldn’t believe the rumors, and I don’t, but... hell, even the comments you make. ‘Check out those legs! They go for miles!’, or ‘Look at those shoulders, damn.’” Len tried to mimic the ogling enthusiasm he remembered his friend showing. “I’m just confused.”

“Like I said, I don’t mind sex, but my goals for those nights were to find interesting people and have a good time. Sometimes those good times involved sex, if that was what they thought was a good time. Other times... well, I’ll just show you.”

Jim hopped off the bar stool, went over to his desk, and pulled out what looked to be a thick ream of real paper that looked bounded by leather out of one of the drawers. Len’s right eyebrow shot up as his best friend slammed the pad on the table between them and gestured for him to look at it. “I appreciate bodies, human and non-human alike, Bones. As a doctor, you should understand at least that much.”

Leonard started flipping through the sketchbook. It looked like Jim had started keeping it shortly before he left Riverside, if the first drawing was anything to go by--the Enterprise being built. The second was of him, drunk as a skunk and threatening to puke on Jim in their very first meeting. He smiled fondly and touched the charcoal. It wasn’t great, but it was Jim’s, and the pictures got better as he went on. Some were candid, some were posed, some were sexual--although now he needed to redefine that word--and some were as wholesome as apple pie.

But the best ones? The best ones were of Leonard. The attention to detail, getting his moles and tiny scars (“If it won’t kill ya, let it heal the way God intended!”), even the way he parted his hair in uniform or spiked it when out. In addition to the skill increasing with each turn of the page, the drawings of Leonard felt more personal, held more warmth than those of other people. Len’s little old romantic heart was telling him this was Jim’s way of saying he loved him too. But of course his stubborn and insecure brain said he’d need to hear the words.

“These are beautiful, Jim. You’ve really honed your talent here, put in a lot of work. I take it many of those nights out were to practice?” Len flipped back to a few different pictures depicting beautiful people having a night on the town.

Jim nodded, a faint blush creeping along his cheeks which could have been excused by the alcohol had Len not known his friend’s tolerance. “Yeah. I just... I like making people feel good, you know? So I go out, find someone who’s having a bad time, and help them have a good time. People can say what they want afterwards, I know I made them feel good in one way or another.”

There it was, Jim’s constant desire to make sure everyone felt included and cared for. It was part of why Len loved the man, but it was also what made him worry. Logically, and he mentally cursed himself for choosing that word to rationalize it, he knew that Jim was also surrounded by people--himself included--who loved him and wanted to make him feel included and cared for, but at some point... there had to be a limit. When would Jim ever put himself first? Why didn’t he already?

Shaking his head, Len closed the sketchbook and gently pushed it to the side, taking Jim’s hand in his and squeezing it. “I’m sorry I’ve been an idiot.”

Jim set down his drink and put his free hand on top of the hand pile. “Yeah, you have.”

“And I’m sorry for not thinking your very thoughtful dates were actually dates.”

“Speaking of which, have you thought to consider the timing of the two times a year I ask you out?”

Len’s brow furrowed as he tried to think back to all the times he’d been asked. Yes, it was twice a year. Yes, it was... almost exactly the same times each year, and they started after the Khan incident. One date was clear--the anniversary of that first shuttle flight together and the first time he’d puked on Jim--but the other didn’t ring a bell. He shrugged. “I have no clue why yesterday was important, Jimmy... Sorry.”

“Didn’t figure you would,” Jim said as he pulled one of his hands back and scratched at his nose, almost shyly. “It was when you chose not to move into a single after our first year. You said that someone’s gotta take care of me and you didn’t trust anyone else to do it right.”

“...Shit, yer right!”

“Of course I’m right, Bones,” Jim stated blankly, pointing to his temple. “I may make dumb decisions sometimes, but I’ve got a damn near perfect memory.”

Len laughed and shook his head. “I sure don’t. Guess you’re more of a romantic than I gave you credit for.”

“Not the first mistake you’ve made, but I look forward to however you plan on making it up to me.”

“Don’t be a brat, Jim,” Len chided. “But I do plan on making it up to you somehow, if you’ll give me a second chance.”

“This is the ninth chance, Bones,” Jim deadpanned. At Leonard’s wince, he squeezed his friend’s hand. “But since I could have also fixed this whole situation by communicating that these dates weren’t jokes instead of hiding from it, hoping the next one would be better, let’s reset the counter to two. Deal?”

Len nodded and brought Jim’s hand up, slowly, to kiss his knuckles before letting go and grabbing the sketchbook. “I don’t know about you, but my legs could use a break. And you could fill me in on what the heck I was doing--and how I didn’t notice you--when you sketched me in all these pages.”

Jim chuckled and led them to the small living area, plopping down on the couch in his usual spot with Len taking the seat right beside him, a little closer than he normally would. Leonard knew they’d have to  _ talk  _ talk, but this was a good distraction while the small amount of alcohol in their systems burnt off. He wanted to be extra sober for whatever happened, mainly because he wanted to hear what both of them were comfortable with, and not what they’d say with loosened lips.

When that time finally came, after they’d exhausted the sketchbook, the two of them found themselves lazily sprawled lengthwise on the couch together, limbs tangling. Len ended up with his left knee drawn up and over Jim’s legs with the sketchbook resting on top of his own thigh. It was cozy, comfortable, and everything Len needed. He was almost too afraid to start the conversation.  _ Almost _ .

“Jim--”

“Bones--”

“Uhh, you first,” they said in unison before pausing, followed by laughter.

“God, we’re so bad at this,” Jim said, burying his face in Len’s uniformed chest.

“Speak for yourself, kid,” Leonard mumbled as he ruffled the blond hair in front of his face. “I happen to like exactly where we ended up, so we can’t be too bad at this.”

“We could have been here four years ago, Bones.  _ We are bad at this _ .”

Len just shrugged. “Good bourbon takes a while.”   
  
“Is that what we are?”

“No, we’re more like whatever that swill is that Scotty makes. Rough around the edges, but gets the job done, and tastes better the more you indulge.”

“You are  _ not _ comparing us to that drink! It tastes like  _ ass _ , Bones!”

“Whatever. The point is, I love you. I like the idea of being in a relationship with you, but we need to talk more so we don’t run into this again. Which, yes, means I have to listen more. No, it doesn’t mean you have to immediately love me back. So,” Len paused to take a deep breath, “what do you want?”

“Do I make you feel butterflies?” Jim asked quietly.

The flush on Leonards face had never been more pronounced, the red only matched by his fits of anger--usually directed toward Jim when he skipped the medbay after returning from a mission. “I, uhh, yes?” he squeaked, before clearing his throat. “Yes.”

Jim smiled his brilliant smile again and Leonard’s heart melted. “I would have been fine with no, too, but you’re cute when you blush.”

“Can I kiss you?” Len asked, feeling hopeful.

“Yeah, I like kissing.” Jim leaned down and met his friend halfway.

Leonard was overly eager in his attempt to meet Jim and accidentally bumped noses, reminding him of his first kiss back in middle school. Only this time, it was because he was eager, and not because he was nervous. Strangely, he didn’t feel an ounce of nervous energy. There was no doubt in any bone of his body that this was what he wanted. He tried again, and so did Jim, and it was better. They’d have to learn each other, but there was plenty of time for that.

When he felt Jim’s hands start creeping up underneath his uniform, Len reached down to grab one of them and lace their fingers together. He reluctantly pulled out of the kiss and stared up into those gorgeous blue eyes, putting on a dashing grin. “Watch your hands, mister, I don’t put out on the first date.”

Jim laughed and returned his hand to Len’s chest, on top of the clothing. “I don’t mind if you don’t put out, but I’d be disappointed if you didn’t sleep with me.” He pinched Len’s nose when he saw those thick brown brows start to knit together in confusion. “I do mean sleep. I... miss sharing a room together. And I always wanted to see if you were a cuddler.”

“I, uhh, I’d like that. And I do like... cuddling… But…” Len sucked his teeth as he tried to find a way to word what he wanted.

“It’s OK if you don’t, I’m--”

“NO! No, I do like cuddling. But. I just don’t always want to be the big spoon.”

Jim grinned and carefully stood up, offering his hand out to Leonard. “I will big spoon you so hard.”

Len took a moment to catch his breath at the sheer confidence in Jim’s display and took his hand, pulling himself up and then kissing Jim breathless again as they stumbled their way to the bed. Uniforms came off, boxer briefs stayed on, and the two found themselves cuddled up facing each other, waiting for the other to do or say something.

Len was first. “I am so goddamn stupid for not trusting you when you first asked me out.”

Jim leaned forward to kiss Len’s forehead, right between his crinkled brows. “Relax. I was busy captaining and you were busy doctoring--and trust me, my captaining gave you a lot of doctoring to do. I knew you were the only one I’d want to have a relationship with, it’s OK if I had to wait. I just... didn’t like not knowing where I stood. That’s the only part I wish was different.”

“Cliche as it may be, I knew I loved you when I lost ya.” Len took a few moments to calm himself down from that sentence before continuing. Jim understood, or at least he hoped Jim understood. “I didn’t know what type of love, but I knew it was love. It wasn’t ‘til after Altamid when I found out you nearly left me that I realized it was romantic love, but it just frustrated me more knowing--thinking--that I couldn’t have that with you.”

Jim let out a long sigh and kissed Len on the forehead again before pushing his shoulder until the older man rolled over. Even though they were of a height, Jim was longer-limbed, and he used that to his advantage. He wrapped himself around Leonard like an octopus and wriggled until he was apparently comfortable. And, given the sigh he let out without thinking, Len was comfortable too.

With a quick kiss to the back of Leonard’s neck, Jim closed his eyes and snuggled in. But apparently he wasn’t ready for bed just yet. Damn him for even bringing up the number.

“Who was the third?”   
  
“Mm?” Len asked, already starting to snooze.

“The third person who gave you butterflies.”

“Oh, it was Spock.”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me!” Jim exclaimed loudly, right in Leonard’s ear.

Len clapped one hand over his abused ear and swatted Jim with the other. “Shut up, you’re the one who asked. I’m trying to maintain this thing called open and honest communication.”

“Fine, sorry, sorry, go to sleep,” Jim said quietly with another kiss. Although the silence didn’t last long before he muttered to himself, “Huh. So old Spock might not have been joking after all.”

“What?” Len asked. “What did old Spock say?” He waited a few seconds before hearing the light snores of a perfectly content Jim, who wasn’t going to answer until morning. 

“Well, that’s just typical.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and constructive criticism are appreciated.


End file.
